


Truce

by Flynne



Series: Lynnie Amell [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Lynnie Amell, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 20:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14528847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flynne/pseuds/Flynne
Summary: With the Battle of Ostagar looming, there isn't time for an argument. Alistair and the newest Grey Warden manage to fit one in anyway.





	Truce

The night air was cold on Lynnie’s face as she turned away from Duncan’s fire. She soon left the warmth of the blaze behind, strides long and swift despite the weight of her new armor.  Her blood felt hot, though; a bone-deep fire kindled by the heat of the darkspawn blood in her belly. The harsh, metallic taste lingered on her tongue even though she had drunk half her water flask in an attempt to wash it away.

“Lynnie, wait!” Alistair’s armor clanked as he hurried to catch up. She didn’t slow or turn, and he swore under his breath as he jogged the last few steps to reach her side. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“It’s the tallest tower for leagues around,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light. “It’s hard to miss.”

He tilted his head, studying her impassive face. “Are you…angry?”

Lynnie kept her gaze locked on the path in front of her. “Now’s not really the time, Alistair,” she answered. She spoke calmly, but her temper rumbled beneath her breastbone as if in answer to the thunder growling in the low-hanging clouds overhead.

Alistair’s brows lifted. “You  _are_ angry. It’s not about missing the battle, is it? I know  _I_  complained, but I didn’t expect  _you_  to. Not that you can’t fight; you were quite impressive against those Genlocks.”

“Could we please just focus on the task at hand?” The words came out a little sharper this time. Lightning forked across the sky like a serpent’s tongue, and the rising wind brought the scent of rain.

She didn’t truly expect Alistair to let it go, and he proved her right after eyeing her curiously for another moment or two. “You aren’t…angry with  _me_ , are you?”

His persistence wore through the thin barrier of self-control she’d managed to raise. She halted in the middle of the trail, rounding on him in exasperation. “Tell me why I shouldn’t be!” she demanded. He pulled up short, startled; but to his credit, did not back away from her. “Tell me why I shouldn’t be angry that Daveth and Ser Jory are dead! Tell me why I shouldn’t be angry that you didn’t warn us!”

“You know I couldn’t have done that,” he replied, surprise beginning to warm into anger of his own. “Are you honestly telling me you’d have undergone the joining ritual if you’d known what you had to do?”

“So the only answer was to back me into a corner?” she flashed. “I had already accepted Duncan’s offer; I had agreed to join the Grey Wardens, whatever the cost. My word should have been enough, and you and Duncan should have had the decency to tell me what that cost was!”

“It’s forbidden for me to tell you! I didn’t have a choice!” His voice rose in turn as he leaned into the confrontation. “You didn’t  _have_  to accept Duncan’s offer, you know!”

Lynnie’s face flushed. “Don’t talk to me about choices! I had no  _choice_ but to grow up in the Circle with the chantry watching my every move. I had no  _choice_ but to go through the Harrowing, knowing there were templars standing behind me, ready to take my head off if they thought it necessary.” Her words turned bitter in her mouth. “I broke the rules trying to give a choice to someone I thought was a friend, but  _that_  turned out to be a mistake. So yes, when I had the opportunity to leave with Duncan, I took it - because it was the first chance I’d had to choose my own path; because I thought perhaps things would be different away from the Circle. But I was wrong.”  

She’d been wrong to hope that the world outside Kinloch Hold could be different. And it seemed that she’d been wrong about Duncan, which stung more than anything else, because his grave kindness had been so different from the grim and implacable templars. She felt a twinge of remorse as she remembered the troubled look in his eyes as she’d left him. She’d been respectful as they’d gone over the plan for the battle, but he’d noticed the new frost in her voice as she spoke to him, however much she tried to hide it. Her jaw firmed and she stubbornly pushed the guilt away.  

Her hands balled into fists as she waited for Alistair to lash back at her…but he didn’t. His stance shifted, moving away from her space as the burgeoning anger on his face faded into concern. “I didn’t know.”

Lynnie’s hackles lowered a bit as Alistair backed down, and she shook her head dismissively. “You couldn’t have known. I shouldn’t blame you for things you can’t control. It’s just…” A sharp, humorless laugh huffed from her chest. “I’ve spent most of my life under the thumb of the templars and now it feels like the only thing that has changed is the title of those who wish to control me.”

“The Grey Wardens are not like the templars.” Alistair’s voice was as earnest - and as stern - as she had ever heard it. There was no sign of his habitual carefree humor in his expression now. “Duncan’s not like them,” he said with quiet conviction. “You’ll see that when you get to know him. And I can tell he’s worried about you.” Lynnie blinked at him in mild surprise. So Alistair had noticed the friction between her and Duncan back at the bonfire. She hadn’t thought he was that perceptive. “I’m sorry about the joining,” he went on. “But you don’t need to worry; you’ve passed the test. You have your duties as a warden, but no one will try to control you. And I’m sorry about Daveth and Jory. Truly, I am.”

Lynnie looked at him carefully, searching his face for pity or for signs that he was patronizing her. She didn’t see it. What she  _did_  see was empathy, and that - along with the knowledge that battle loomed heavily on the horizon - quelled the last of her desire to argue.  

She took a slow breath, letting the night air cool the heat of anger in her chest. “I’m sorry too.” The words were easier to say than she thought they’d be. “I’ve formed a lot of first impressions over the past few days. Perhaps I’ve been wrong about some things.” She offered a her hand. “Let’s call a truce for now. And I’ll speak with Duncan after the battle. All right?”

Relief loosened the tension in Alistair’s shoulders as he shook her hand. “A truce it is.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Maker knows I don’t want to be fighting the darkspawn  _and_  you. You’d probably thrash me.”

That coaxed a wry smile onto her face. “You’re teasing me, but I don’t think you want to find out if it’s true.”

He laughed. “You’re right. I don’t.”

Lightning flashed, very close now. The ground shook from the clap of thunder…and kept shaking as the steady  _tramp-tramp_  of the advancing darkspawn army rumbled through the earth. Lynnie’s mouth firmed, and she tipped her head towards the Tower of Ishal. “Come on. We’ve got a job to do.”

He nodded briskly. “Right behind you.”

She started to run, Alistair at her heels, as the first drops of rain began to fall.


End file.
